A SEAL's Consent (SEALs of Chance Creek Book 4)

by Cora Seton

  “Uh, I’m not sure about that one,” he said quickly. It looked like it cost a bundle. “I’m thinking something more like…” He jabbed a finger almost at random. “That one.”

  It was a plain silver band set with a single, small diamond. Elegant, he thought.

  Spare, even.

  Win’s eyebrows shot up. “That one?”

  Rose frowned, looking from one to the other.

  “What’s wrong with it?” Jericho asked.

  “Nothing. If Savannah worked at the laundromat and you flipped burgers for a living,” Win said scathingly.

  “It’s a perfectly lovely ring,” Rose intervened.

  “Do you have any idea who your fiancée is? Who her family is?” Win said to Jericho.

  “Yes.” Of course he did, but he was also aware of his dwindling bank account and his responsibility to Donovan.

  “Then you know that despite Savannah’s decision to live the simple life, she’s used to being wealthy. Extremely wealthy. You have to take that into consideration. She’s used to the finer things in life—you can’t expect her to just throw that all over in the span of a few months.” As Win’s voice rose, Jericho’s worry grew. She was right; Savannah came from money, and he didn’t want to come off as a cheapskate. But he couldn’t bankrupt himself, either—not when he had payments to make.

  “All I’m saying is if you want to make Savannah happy, you’ll buy this one.” Win thrust the fancy ring into Jericho’s hand. “I’m going to go run my errand. See you at Linda’s Diner. You should make up your own mind.”

  She walked off, and Jericho wondered why she was so angry. He wasn’t buying her a ring—that was Angus’s problem.

  “What do you think?” Jericho asked Rose, but only for show. He couldn’t buy the plainer ring now. Every time he saw it on Savannah’s finger—if she accepted him—he’d think of the way Win had disparaged it.

  “I’ll take this one,” he said before Rose could answer him, and held out the fancier one. Win was right; it was exactly the sort of thing Savannah would wear. The blue stones circling the diamond would match her favorite gown.

  Rose took it from him, held it in her palm and for a moment her gaze relaxed, as if she was looking inward instead of focusing on her surroundings. She frowned, paused again, then shook her head.

  “Jericho… I don’t think you need to worry about the ring… I think there’s something else. Something you don’t know about.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m… not sure. I can’t get a clear vision.”

  A clear vision? “Uh… okay.” Did Rose think she was psychic? He knew plenty. He knew Win was right; Savannah would like this ring. Knew, too, there was no guarantee she’d say yes even if he bought it for her. He had a hunch of his own, as well; that it would wipe out half his savings. More than half, he realized when he turned over the little tag and saw the price.

  “We have payment plans,” Rose ventured.

  “I’d like to see one,” Jericho said quickly. That was the answer; he’d put it on credit. He’d eke what little money he had along until Base Camp was ready and he could get back to working for pay. Maybe he’d talk to Boone and the others about doing so sooner rather than later.

  Rose brought out some paperwork and began to go over the terms of the monthly payments.

  Savannah was cleaning the kitchen windows, but her thoughts were on the piano in the other room. Part of being a professional was managing the distractions that threatened to get in the way of practice time, so why had she decided to head back down to Base Camp in a few minutes to put in two hours with Jericho on the energy system?

  No one expected her to. They knew she’d been forced to work with Jericho—she certainly hadn’t volunteered.

  But the truth was, she wanted to be near Jericho again. She liked the work—and she found it compelling to watch Jericho so focused on his passions. Like he’d told her, he was consumed by renewable energy systems and the things they did together went far beyond the grunt work she’d figured she was in for when Boone had ordered her to join Jericho’s team.

  For one thing, she’d found she was good at doing the equations necessary to execute the schematics. She loved it when she could run the calculations even faster than Jericho could. She’d always been good at that back at school, too.

  Maybe if someone had shown her the ways math—or programming for that matter—could be used for such interesting real-world applications, she’d have taken to it when she was a kid. Instead they’d plied her with dumb computer games and simulations. Boring. But figuring out how to make the energy system as efficient as possible?

  She liked that kind of puzzle.

  Too bad no one cheered you on when you installed solar panels.

  Savannah shook her head at the direction her thoughts had trended. She had to focus, and right now that meant practicing—as much as possible. Preparing for a concert or audition could be tedious, but that was the price you paid for those moments on stage, and she was willing to pay it.

  Later.

  This afternoon.

  After a little break.

  Savannah checked the time, quickly put away the window cleaner and rags and hurried to wash her hands and straighten her clothes before meeting up with the other women to walk down to Base Camp.

  “Someone’s happy to get to see her boyfriend,” Avery teased.

  Savannah glanced back at the camera crew that had joined them. They had definitely gotten that on film.

  “I’m happy to get out in the fresh air,” Savannah retorted. “How about you? Ready for another horseback riding lesson?”

  “Walker’s preparing me for the bison.” Avery shivered. “I’m not sure there’s any amount of preparation that will get me comfortable with them.”

  They walked down the hill chatting companionably, but when they reached Base Camp, Avery ducked away from the rest of the group. “I need something from my tent. Tell Walker I’ll meet him at the stables.”

  “Sure thing.” Savannah did so, and went on her way to where Jericho had set up a folding table and was looking through a set of schematics. Bent over the table, bracing himself with one hand, pen in the other, he scribbled something on a sheet of paper.

  The SEAL was so handsome. Did he have any idea what he did to a woman?

  Probably, Savannah decided. That’s why he could afford to be so forthright about his likes and dislikes; he assumed a woman would bend herself to his desires in order to be with him.

  She couldn’t do that even if she wanted to.

  “Hey, Savannah,” he said when he noticed her. “Check my work, would you? Something’s not right here.”

  He slid the paper her way, and Savannah held out a hand for his pen. She started over with his basic equation, did the math in her head and slid the paper back with her answer written on it.

  “That’s more like it.” Jericho checked her work. “Yep. You got it. How the hell do you do that so fast?”

  “I’m not sure. I think—I think it’s the music,” she said honestly. “Numbers sort of arrange themselves in my mind like notes. I can feel what number should come next, like I know if a note is right or wrong in a composition.”

  “That’s… weird.” But he was smiling as he leaned closer to tuck a piece of her hair into her bonnet.

  “I like it,” she told him. “It’s… comforting.” Not frustrating like her practicing felt these days. The closer her audition came, the more her gut tightened in knots just thinking about it.

  “How on earth is math comforting?”

  Was he laughing at her? He was. “You must like it, too; otherwise you wouldn’t have picked this job.”

  “It isn’t the math that sucked me in. That’s just a necessary evil. I like working out how to replace fossil fuels with renewable energy.” Jericho indicated the turbines turning in the wind. “I do the equations because I have to—not because they sound like lullabies.” He grinned down at her.

  �
�I never said they sounded like lullabies.” But his answer intrigued her. She’d assumed he felt the same way she did about numbers, but that was silly. No one had back at Boston College either when she’d tried to explain why she loved calculus. In fact, some of her classmates thought she was making it up when she explained how she felt. She did so well in those classes, her professors had wondered why she was bothering with music.

  The way Savannah saw it, music was math, and math was music.

  “The solar panels are being delivered tomorrow,” Jericho told her. “So let’s make sure we’re ready for them. Kai? Greg? Come on,” he called to the other members of their little team.

  Savannah followed the men, in no hurry to get back to the manor any time soon.

  “Hard to believe we’ve come this far,” Greg said to Jericho a week later when all four of them had gathered together to look at the array of solar panels on the south-facing wall of the bunkhouse roof. A knot of cameramen stood around them, capturing the important moment. Even Renata had come to watch. Jericho had done his best to evade her these past few days. He was dealing with enough without her pointed questions.

  “I know what you mean.” Just two months ago, none of his green energy measures were in place. Now several turbines contributed wind power, and the solar array on the bunkhouse roof was ready to add to the power they were producing.

  “Now you can cook at will, Kai,” Savannah said. “No more solar ovens.”

  “We’ll see about that; I’m kind of partial to them at this point. But winter’s on its way; I’ll be glad not to have to rely on them then.”

  “Were you worried we wouldn’t get things wired up in time?” she asked.

  Kai shrugged. “Things work out.”

  Jericho turned around when he heard the clip-clopping of hooves and the rattle of carriage wheels, and spotted Maud and James Russell driving up in their barouche. The older couple called around to the ranch often. Since the women had all sold their vehicles before coming to Westfield, James often chauffeured them around. It gave him an excuse to drive the barouche, one of his favorite activities. Jericho often thought the older couple was a little lonely. They had no children of their own and so had adopted everyone at Westfield as surrogates. He didn’t mind. The Russells were eccentric, but good-hearted, and they helped out whenever they could.

  “Makes sure you get this,” he heard Renata snap at one of the crew members.

  “Marvelous! You’ve got it all rigged up. How does it run?” James called.

  Jericho bit back a chuckle. The man was never out of character, as far as he could see. He knew the show’s fans loved the Russells. “We’re just about to fire it up. Hang on.”

  “Fire it up isn’t exactly accurate,” Savannah said as Jericho fiddled with the converter. “All Jericho is going to do is flip a switch.”

  “Sounds splendid either way.” James helped Maud down from the barouche, and they waited with the rest of them for Jericho to finish the job.

  “Okay, it’s the moment of truth.” Jericho led the way to the bunkhouse’s front door. They filed inside, where Boone, Clay and Walker, who’d been clustered around a desk, joined them. The crew trooped in after them. “If the light turns on when I hit the switch, then we hooked it up right. If it doesn’t, it’s back to the drawing board.”

  Jericho had worked on enough projects to know that things like this could take a number of iterations to work out the kinks in the system, and he also knew Renata would lap it up if he failed a time or two. He held his breath and reached for the switch, waited a beat and flipped it.

  The single bulb in the fixture in the middle of the room came to life.

  Everyone cheered. Savannah rushed to him, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. “You did it!”

  “We did it. Me and you and Greg and Kai,” he corrected her, more surprised than he could say. Apart from the times they’d worked together, Savannah had kept her distance from him this past week. With the ring burning a hole in his pocket, he’d sought out times to be alone with her, but she’d made sure that never happened.

  “I’m going to try the oven.” Kai rushed into the kitchen.

  Jericho hung back with Savannah as the others followed. He knew that if the light worked, the oven would, too. “You’ve been a lot of help,” he told Savannah.

  “Thanks. I’ve enjoyed it.”

  He kissed her again, savoring the softness of her lips.

  When another cheer went up in the kitchen, though, they pulled apart, both of them laughing.

  “A celebration,” he heard Maud crow. She bustled back into the main room, cameras trailing after her, her long gray gown rustling as she walked. “We need to have a celebration! Right here! Tonight.” She waved a hand around the bunkhouse. “A dance!”

  “Here?” Savannah asked, wrinkling her nose.

  Jericho understood why. There was a ballroom up at the manor, and a large one at Maud and James’s place. Why have a dance in the bunkhouse?

  “It’ll be perfect. Leave it all to me. You, young man,” she collared Kai. “You’ll help.”

  “You’ll inform everyone?” James said to Jericho, beaming at the turn of events. If there was one thing the Russells loved, it was a celebration. Jericho knew it was pointless to argue with them—especially if Kai and the others were on board. Renata had packed up.

  “Uh… sure.” Jericho tried to muster some enthusiasm, but he wasn’t nearly as pleased as James seemed to be. There was still plenty of work to do on the power grid. They had ten tiny houses to eventually bring online, not to mention the barns and outbuildings. And he’d begun to avoid Boone, sure the other man was going to start bringing up backup brides if he didn’t get a move on with Savannah.

  “Tell them to dress up. Maud doesn’t do anything by half-measures,” James said. As if she’d heard him, Maud came bustling out of the kitchen again.

  “Kai understands what he needs to do,” she informed her husband. “Now, we have to get busy. I’ve had the most splendid idea. A surprise for the young folks.”

  “A surprise!” James rubbed his hands together. “My dear, this is shaping up to be a wonderful day. Until we meet again,” he called to Jericho and Savannah, leading his wife from the building.

  “I guess we’re going to have a party,” Savannah said slowly when they’d gone.

  “I guess so.”

  All afternoon while Savannah practiced, she wondered if she should be down at the bunkhouse preparing for the celebration that night. The other women were running back and forth from Base Camp to the manor, bustling around as if they were preparing for a ball rather than a small party. After a while, the crews got tired of running back and forth and clustered around the bunkhouse.

  “I just heard from Mia Matheson,” Avery said, bursting into the room as Savannah was attempting a difficult passage from a concerto. “Maud and James invited everyone from the Double-Bar-K to the party tonight, too.”

  “That’s going to be a tight fit,” Savannah exclaimed, giving up on the song.

  “I called Maud and asked if anyone else was coming, but she said no. So it won’t be too bad. We should be able to squeeze everyone in. By the way, you got an email.” Avery fished the cell phone they shared from her pocket. “From some woman.” She passed it to Savannah.

  “Thanks. I’ll come and help soon.” She wasn’t getting much practicing done anyway, and if she was honest, she didn’t like being left out.

  “Whenever you’re ready,” Avery said. “I admire your dedication to your work.”

  “How’s your work coming? Your screenplay?”

  “Really good.” Avery’s smile was secretive, though. “Better than I expected.”

  “I’d love to see it—when you’re ready,” Savannah rushed to add.

  “Sure! Soon,” Avery said. “Bring me the phone when you’re done with it.”

  She left as quickly as she’d come, and Savannah settled down to read the email, grateful she wasn’t bein
g filmed. It was from Melissa Maynard, Alfred Redding’s assistant, and contained detailed information about her audition.

  Savannah read through it once, and then a second time, absorbing all the rules. She must not bring any recording devices to the audition. Must let them know ahead of time what she meant to play. Must not speak to Mr. Redding unless he asked her a direct question. Must not speak to the other applicants, either.

  Her audition spot was thirty minutes long, and she was warned to be on time. Her place would not be held for her, nor were there any makeup auditions. If she was tardy, her place would go to one of the waitlisted applicants who would stand by hoping for that opportunity.

  Savannah lowered the phone. It all sounded…

  Hideous.

  No—not hideous! Savannah caught herself. Of course it wasn’t hideous. It was the industry. Alfred Redding was a busy man. A famous one who didn’t need to take on any protégés. She should be overwhelmed with gratitude for the opportunity, not critical of his nitpicky rules. After all, she could be punctual and prepared. Any concert pianist worth her salt knew how to be professional.

  She was nervous, that was all. This would be the start of her career—what she’d been aiming for all along. She’d work her way step by step to that pinnacle Jericho had talked about.

  And then what?

  For the first time, Savannah wondered about what came next. In her mind she got to that fabulous concert—the one attended by dignitaries, written about in the New York Times. The one in which her mother and father stood in the front row and cheered on her success.

  That was all she needed, she told herself. Once she’d gotten there, she’d take a breath—pull back. Spend more time being a mother, while continuing to play around the country—around the world.

  But even as she pictured that, she found herself dissatisfied.

  More hours at the piano. Apart from her child.

  Apart from her friends as they ran the bed and breakfast.

  Apart from everyone.

  She rested a hand on her belly, feeling the slight swell that was her baby.

  Was it the baby making her feel like this?